


A Date

by WhiskyNotTea



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, First Date, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskyNotTea/pseuds/WhiskyNotTea
Summary: Jenny knows Ian all her life. He has been her best friend, until he asks her on a date.





	A Date

 

So what. Ian Murray had asked her on a date. **  
**

They had been out before. Countless times. Just a week ago they had been at their favorite pub and she had ended up drunk, singing in the street as he carried her to his car.

Everyone had been drunk that night; everyone but Ian. She’d raised an eyebrow when the barman set a pint on the bar in front of him, but he’d simply jiggled the car keys at her with a suggestive look. They had had a second and a third round of whiskies, and then some shots, but Ian hadn’t ordered again.

Jamie had left the pub with Claire around midnight, announcing loud enough for everyone to hear that she was too intoxicated to go home alone. Rupert’s boisterous laugh, however, had made clear that Jamie couldn’t fool anyone. Ian’s smile at his best friend’s attempt to escape had crinkled his eyes - eyes that had immediately searched for hers, and he’d offered to drive Jenny home.

She had almost reached the passenger door when he’d surprised her, grasping her hand and pulling her back to him. “Ye’re drunk,” he’d said, half-smiling, and his eyes had burned in her.

“I’m not!” she’d exclaimed, offended.

Frasers never admitted their drunken state unless they couldn’t stand on their feet. It was a rule, and Jenny had been standing on her feet just fine. Maybe leaning into Ian a bit - just fine.

“Good, then.” He’d taken a breath, let it out slowly. “What are ye doing next Saturday?”

She’d shrugged, then frowned.

“Will ye have dinner wi’ me?” he’d continued, and run a hand through his short hair.

“Yes, sure,” she’d replied, not realizing what he was actually talking about.

He’d looked at her intently, still holding her hand, his thumb tracing the rises and falls of her knuckles. He’d opened the door to her then, and they hadn’t said a word during the short ride home.

When they’d arrive at her place, Ian had walked her to the door. “Next Saturday, at eight,” he’d said. “It’s a date.” And vanished in the night.

Jenny had stood there, suddenly sober and unable to move, until the sound of his car’s engine faded out.

A date.

Ian had left for Edinburgh on Sunday and she hadn’t seen him since. Maybe that was for the best. What was she supposed to do if she’d wake up in the morning and see him sitting in her kitchen, drinking coffee and talking with Jamie about rugby?

Ian had always been one of her favorite people, but she had never dared to think of him that way. Too much was at risk and their friendship was too important to let any other thought sneak inside her head.

Without him around, Jenny pretended it was just an ordinary week. She hid the anticipation inside her chest and didn’t even admit to herself that her first thought every morning was a countdown to Saturday. She was determined to work and exhaust herself to a point when she’d have no time or stamina to think about him, about their date, about the irreversible turn their lives might take.

But since he’d asked her out, a door she’d kept closed for years shifted on its hinges. Ian invaded her thoughts when she was least expecting him. She was thinking of him when she was at work, how he’d tease her for this or that, and ended up smiling for no reason, gaining inquiring glances from Mary and Mrs Crook. She started paying more attention to Jamie when he talked with Ian on the phone, trying to discover where he was and when he’d be back without having to ask her brother. And worst of all, she was constantly thinking of all their little moments together, trying to understand if he had felt this way all the past years.

Saturday came, and Jenny spent a good part of the day in front of her closet - as if he didn’t know all her clothes already. Finally, she decided on the floral green dress she had worn at Mary’s birthday party last year. She remembered Ian’s glance returning to her more than once, that night.

Now why she could remember that particular detail was another matter altogether.

Jenny got ready, grateful that Jamie had left the house after lunch, murmuring something about staying at Claire’s for the night. She then wondered if Ian knew, if he had orchestrated everything so that they would be alone without raising any suspicions. She loved her brother dearly and he was Ian’s best friend, but he could become one of the most stubborn, meddling people she knew. Better to leave him in the dark - for now, at least.

At eight, the doorbell rang. Jenny checked herself in the mirror one last time, smiling to make sure the red lipstick hadn’t stained her teeth, and walked to the door.

Her heart was already dancing inside her chest. Ian, their Ian, was waiting on the other side of the thick wood. Waiting to become her Ian.

Or maybe not. It was only a date. Just a first date.

She opened the door and smiled at him. “Hi,” she said, straining not to fidget with the soft fabric of her dress.

“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes fixed on her. “Wow, Jen.”

“I look as I always do.” She shrugged. “I always look amazing, I guess.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I guess,” he repeated. “Ready?”

“Ready!” she said, softly closing the door behind her. “Where are we going?”

“Surprise.”

She raised both eyebrows, but her smile betrayed her excitement. They walked across the small garden in front of the house, and as his glance wandered on the colourful flowers, Jenny took a moment to look at him.

We wore a blue plaid shirt and jeans. Jeans that had a certain fit on his backside, making her want to dip a hand inside his back pocket and -

Wait. Since when did she want to do such stuff to Ian?

Jenny tore her eyes away, pressing her lips together. She remembered melting in his hug, crying in his arms when her mother had died. She remembered lying next to him, burying her head between a pillow and his chest when they were watching horror movies. And then, she remembered wanting to kiss him when they played ‘truth or dare’ in high school.

But she never had and he had never shown any interest in her. Never, before now. She saw his wide arms again, and decided to ask him what had changed. She needed to know and knew he would tell her. He had always been open with her.

“Jen?” Ian called her, bringing her back to the present. He was waiting for her a few steps ahead. “Are you coming?”

“I’m thinking about it, Murray,” she replied as she walked to him.

“Too late for that. Ye had a whole week to do yer thinking.”

She saw Ian moving in the opposite direction of his car.

“Are we…walking to the restaurant?” she asked a moment later.

“D’ye mind? Ye usually don’t -”

“I don’t,” she interrupted him. “It’s okay. I’d love to walk,” she said, gracefully lifting her foot, demonstrating her flats.

She fell in step beside him and they headed towards the river. Inverness was beautiful in the summer. It was late, but the sky was still a vibrant blue above their heads, with pink and orange clouds close to the horizon. They reached the river and then walked next to it, its constant movement pacifying Jenny’s busy mind, calming her.

If she wanted to be honest with herself though, it wasn’t only the water that inflicted such an effect upon her. It was Ian’s presence, the nonchalant way he dipped his hands inside his pockets, the soft glances he stole at her as they talked.

“Ian,” she called him hesitantly when he headed to Greig St bridge to cross Ness. He stopped and turned to face her. “Can we cross by the Ness bridge?”

“Why?” he asked with a small frown and an imperceptible smile.

“I don’t like that one. It’s too narrow.”

“Dinna tell me ye’re still afraid, Jen. Tis stable enough, ye should know that by now!”

“I know.” She pursed her lips and stared at him, hard. “I still don’t like it.”

“Oh, come on,” he urged her, walking to the bridge again.

“I’m not coming. I’ll go the other way around.”

He shook his head, coming back to her. “It just moves a little, that’s all. I promise nothing will happen.”

“If kids come running, or someone with a bike -”

“I’ll be there. Come, Jen.”

His voice was soft and reassuring - not the mocking one someone would expect. It was silly, she knew it. There was no reason to hate that bridge. And yet, she did. Her heart was in her mouth every time she walked on it, feeling it tremble under her feet.

But not this time. Ian walked behind her, keeping a steady hand on her waist. It kept her grounded, safe.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in front of an Italian restaurant Jenny had insisted on going for a while. Her wide eyes elicited a smile on his face, making it plain that he, at least, was paying attention when she was talking.

The food was delicious, and it was the first time Jenny didn’t care how fast she was eating or what topic of discussion was good enough for a first date. They talked as they had always done. They argued and made fun of each other, shared memories of the past and plans for the future.

“So ye were in Edinburgh this week?” she asked, stuffing her mouth with pasta.

“Aye.” He heaved a sigh. His brow was furrowed and she saw his Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck.

“It didn’t go well?”

“It went fine.” He finally tore his eyes from his plate and looked at her. “But I’m still stressed, I guess. I had a meeting with an important collaborator and he still hasn’t called back to announce his final decision. But he seemed positive.”

Jenny covered his hand with hers, squeezing it softly. “I’m sure everything will be alright.”

“Thanks, Jen.” His smile was genuine and his gaze traveled onto their hands, now interlaced as if in their own accord.

“What about ye? How’s the expansion of the bookstore going?”

“Oh, ye ken. We’ve a lot of dust around now, and Mrs Crook canna stop brushing up the shelves and the books, but we’ll make a perfect little nook wi’ soft couches and armchairs for everyone to read a book wi’ a cup of tea or coffee.”

“Pretty much what ye were always doing at Lallybroch, ye wi yer wee books, since I remember ye.”

She blushed. It wasn’t just the picture of her he had just described, but the way he looked at her, honest and straightforward as he had always been. The way he was thinking of her.

“Cheers,” she said and raised her glass, trying to blame the wine for the colour on her cheeks.

“Cheers,” he repeated, keeping his eyes on her as he drank.

–

It was dark when they left the restaurant and a cool breeze coming from the river made Jenny shiver in her light summer dress. The cobblestones were wet, and she vaguely wondered when it had rained. They had been walking back to the house, when Ian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side, rubbing some warmth into her.

“God, ye’re freezing,” he whispered, and pulled them to a stop, turning her to face him. He worked both his hands against her arms now, and she smiled contently as her body temperature increased. She stepped closer to him without realizing it, and his hands moved to her back, moving more softly now. He was warm and smelled like oranges and cardamon. His hands finally stilled on her waist, and she looked up at him to find him staring into her eyes.

A long moment passed and none of them breathed, as if the tiny movement of their chests would break the spell that bound them together. Then, moving closer, they inhaled together, sharing the same air. Ian pressed her softly against his body and she placed a hand on his chest, feeling his lean muscles going taut. She saw his head bend as she rose on her tiptoes, his tongue licking his lips and the next moment they were on hers, building a fire in her chest that ran along her body, danced under her skin and drove the cold away.

She forgot herself in his kiss, not realizing how much time had passed when they stopped for breath.

Ian looked at her, a smile spreading on his lips.

“How come you asked me on a date?” she blurted, surprising him.

He increased the distance between them, rubbed the nape of his neck and watched her with a bashful smile. “When ye leaned against me, singing and laughing last week, I thought none of my sins was  _that_  bad to have me tormented this way for life. ‘Tis now or never, man,’ I thought to myself. And then, drunk as ye were, there was a good chance ye wouldna remember in the morning in case ye rejected me.”

“I wasna drunk!” she laughed and stepped closer to him again, taking hold of his shirt.

“Thank God ye weren’t,” he replied and pulled her to him, suddenly finding the distance between their lips unbearable.


End file.
